


Offer

by Jackpotgirl1



Series: Pieces of us [6]
Category: Breddy, Twosetviolin
Genre: Angst, Fluff, I tried to fluff, M/M, OC, Soloist!Brett, Star Tears, doctor!eddy, star tears are the next hanahaki
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-28
Updated: 2020-04-28
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:08:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23868040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jackpotgirl1/pseuds/Jackpotgirl1
Summary: For april twosetweek 2020 day 1: career
Relationships: Eddy Chen/Brett Yang
Series: Pieces of us [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1672330
Comments: 4
Kudos: 35





	Offer

**Author's Note:**

> Original work on my wattpad.

1:27 PM. Meeting room.

Cold. Glasses slipped down his nose, as he jolted awake before he even fully closed his eyes. Eddy ate lunch not even an hour ago. Was still full from his meal, now for the after-effects: he's getting sleepy. The boring meeting didn't help either.

The doctor in front pointed to a graph projected on the wall behind her. About a new food bore illness from underprepared food. He didn't listen, not interested. All the information the young doctor in front shared, nothing registered. Until she said, "In your copies, page six, highlighted in pastel green..."

Green. His consciousness woke up. Eddy scrambled with the pages of his handout.

One doctor complained, "the color is too light." Older doctors around the meeting table agreed. Some either brought the paper closer to their faces or squint as they read it from an arm's length. All trying to see what the speaker referred to.

An authoritative voice pitched in, as the old doctor lifted his glasses to his head, "It's a visual aid, we should understand it visually."

The speaker, flustered. Unable to utter a single word. From her hair tie to her clothing under her lab coat, she sure liked pastels. But the others don't. Especially the old doctor. "I'm sorry," she fumbled with the copies of her handouts on the table and highlighted the said parts with a neon pink highlighter. Quickly handed it to the old man, unsure, "here, sir."

The old man flicked his hand. He refused the handout, "just- continue," returned his glasses to his nose, a wrinkly hand wrote notes to his copy, "we can't waste time here in a meeting. Time is essential."

All while the commotion happened, Eddy's sister beside him slid her copy of the handout to Eddy, underlined the said statement with a blue pen.

"Thanks, sis," Eddy whispered.

\---

With a grunt, he sat on the driver's seat. His eyes were sensitive to outside bright lights. Why this goddamn coffee shop doesn't have underground parking? Eddy hated himself for losing his shades during the commotion with a patient's relative during his shift.

He then shut the door close before he leaned on the steering wheel for a few seconds. "Damn it," he cursed before turning on the engine.

Eddy had to leave fast, not to get caught. Or his sister will be mad again.

\---

His crocs made squeaking sounds as he walked along the white polished tiles of the hallway. The doctor can't understand why there was hate on the footwear. In his mind, crocs are comfy, hey!

The resident doctor, cardiologist, Eddy Chen, on his way to his ophthalmologist sister's office.

He had been hanging out there since he told his sister about his abnormal tear ducts, and she swore, with her all, that she'll cure him. They did numerous check-ups and tests. His sister was both fascinated and worried about this irregularity of his.

His eyes. His tears.

They all twinkle like the little stars,

But with a hint of darkness in between.

-

"I read a new study about your case," his sister started as she put her testing apparatus away. "Rare, yes. Curable..."

"What?" Eddy put his wire-framed glasses on. Her choice of trailing the sentence made him shiver. His sister was always direct. With all of her patients, even with him. It must be an unbelievable feat to make her shake like this.

"Also yes."

Eddy let out a sigh of relief and wiped a bead of sweat on his forehead he didn't know he had. "What do I need?" He smiled. Now with hope, "medication, operation?"

In a serious tone, his sister, "a true love's kiss."

"Bullshit!"

\---

Eddy dumped whatever clothes he grabbed from his closet to his luggage bag. Reluctant, he had to. He's packing for a trip, a forced vacation, courtesy of his sister.

To fix his life, his health, and his career, Eddy must start with his love life.

\---

Somewhere in a hotel in Germany. Early morning.

The phone's ringtone woke him up. He groaned, "fuck whoever is calling."

With eyes still closed and lying on his side, he reached out for his phone on the nightstand, almost knocking over his glasses beside it. He had a few tries before got the item. Absentmindedly, he answered the call and put the phone to his ear. About to sleep again when,

"Hiya, Brett!"

He immediately sat up, wide-eyed. The person on the other line, his few words forced him awake. The phone fell to his blankets with a silent thud. Brett hasn't heard from his friend in a while. Clumsy hands brought the phone back to his, now red, ears. He smiled, "Hey!"

-

"You sure, it's okay to stick with me? No rehearsals?" Eddy asked Brett over his shoulder as he entered his hotel room. His luggage in tow. Brett advised him to check-in to the same hotel as his, with the reason of "they have a great bar here."

"Later, around 10," Brett followed suit and closed the door behind him. Took note that his friend now wore glasses. "Besides, I haven't seen you in a while," he grinned.

Eddy looked around. The blue wallpaper and modern-minimalist furnishings and displays contrast greatly with the plain hospital rooms and corridors he's used to. "So tired," the doctor unceremoniously plopped down on the only bed in the room, left his luggage standing still by the bedside. "'tis nice here, hmm..." Eddy hummed, as he unbuttoned the first two buttons on his white dress shirt.

Brett moved the luggage away and sat beside Eddy. But forced to look away at what his friend was doing, "yeah, close to the venue."

The venue was a multi-purpose hall of some sort. Many great artists held performances there, and in four days, Brett will do so. As a violin soloist.

A soloist. Something Eddy once dreamt of being. Greatly influenced by his best friend. But, unbecoming of an offspring from a family of doctors.

"You'll see me perform, right?" Brett turned to Eddy. Then quickly turned away again. Now with all the buttons undone, he can't let the luscious milky coffee tan of his best friend's chest be ingrained in his brain. Brett wiped the sweat off of his forehead and closed his eyes, to keep the image off of his mind. But even behind his lids, they show. The spawl of his locks against the sheets, the way Eddy looked up to him with those eyes, kind of sleepy, half-lidded, sexy, invi--

"Yep, this time surely." Eddy sat up, yawned as he removed his top entirely, "pass me a shirt, please."

Brett silently nodded, but his brain continued to go haywire, as he opened the bright red luggage. Brett smiled at the childish coloring book and pencils, but... something's wrong? His hands dug through the heap of black and white clothes, looked one by one. Checked. Double checked.

"Hm?" Eddy sat beside Brett on the floor, eyed the mess of his things his friend did. 'He must have a reason for this.' Worried, "what's wrong?"

"Dude," Brett pushed his dark-rimmed glasses up his nose, then turned to Eddy, "these are all pants."

-

Brett went to rehearsals with a bounce in his steps. Held tight to his phone in his pocket, with a snap of his best friend peacefully sleeping with his hoodie on.

\---

"Which one?" Eddy asked Gretta, who was lined up by the cashier with Brett, as he volunteered to fetch the forgotten item. "I can't read German!" He was at the bath soaps aisle, and whoa, there's so many to choose from.

Eddy turned to their direction. Brett was away, his back facing him.

"This small," Gretta gestured with a hand, "red packaging," she shouted back, her English accent thick.

Truthfully, Eddy would get anything at random that was "red," and "this small." It's not that he hated Gretta, it's just... well, she barged in Brett's room and peeled off his friend's blanket from him when he was borrowing more shirts early that morning. And Brett didn't even notice that he left from their bickering about the thirty-two missed calls he didn't answer.

Eddy shook his head, dismissed the thought, and grabbed two of what he assumed the lady wanted.

\---

Eddy filled in the lines with yellow. The flower petals. Then grabbed another pencil, to color in the stem and leaves.

Instead of playing or browsing on his phone, Eddy religiously colored the coloring book his sister gave him. "God, the spaces are so small!" He mumbled as he rubbed in the colored pencil harder, for better color pay off.

He'd been waiting for, half a page of his coloring book; a good ten minutes at least, for Brett. He wanted to eat dinner with him after rehearsals, to catch up. Other patrons of the hotel's restaurant gave him odd looks, he shrugged them off. Nothing they can say or do can stop him from completing his art piece.

'My co-workers said, this adult coloring book thing is relaxing,' the doctor clicked his tongue as he changed pencils again. He pressed in to color more, 'a bunch of liars!'

Eddy's concentrated fully on his work. Furrowed brows and sweat on his forehead meant he's either serious about coloring, or totally pissed--

"Gah-?!" Eddy got startled by a tap on his shoulder, he flinched, letting go of the pencil in the process. He then looked up his shoulder and was greeted by a Brett with a grin on his face.

Brett sat down beside him. The shit-eating grin hasn't left his face since, "nice drawing."

"Fuck off," about to put away his art supplies when Brett grabbed the coloring book. Examined it.

As if in deep thought, Brett put a hand on his chin. Eyes scanned the unfinished page and the previously completed pages. "Interesting."

He chuckled. Eddy, about to grab the coloring book from his friend, "it's not--"

"A garden in a kaleidoscope of colors," Brett looked at his friend, "and a plain blue sky."

Eddy retracted his hand, stared back at Brett.

"Is there a meaning to it?"

To do something with his hands Eddy put the pencils back on its box. Silent. He looked down at his hands.

Brett leaned back on his chair, scanned his friend's face. Waited for his answer.

Not looking up to meet his friend's gaze, the doctor shook his head. And he continued arranging the pencils.

-

After dinner, Eddy went with Brett to his hotel room. To return and borrow another hoodie, even though he bought himself shirts earlier that afternoon. And to get his coloring book from the guy.

"Give me back my shit," Eddy said as he pulled out a yellow hoodie from Brett's luggage bag.

Brett, who sat on the bed, snapped pictures of Eddy's, in his mind, masterpieces, "after this."

As if on cue, Brett's phone rang.

With the clothes in one hand, Eddy walked to Brett and grabbed the coloring book.

"I'm not done yet!" Brett puffed his cheeks.

"Answer that," the doctor pointed to the phone using the coloring book, "might be your girlfriend."

Confused, "what?" Brett checked the caller ID, "it's just Gretta--" then something clicked, "oh..." then, a smile he can't hold in.

Eddy came off somewhat pissed, "what's so funny?"

Brett can't hold it in anymore. So, with pink cheeks and in between chuckles, he said, "she's not my girlfriend, Eddy."

===

The sea.

The bow's movement along the strings. Strong, yet graceful. Tender, yet loud. In a sea called "music," he swam. Air bubbles of sounds. Each, an instrument. A whole orchestra of seafoam accompanied him.

Waves and waves of the foam, of himself, the sea, in turns clashed onto the soft shore, the sandy beach, the tall cliff, the sharp-edged stones.

Whispered.

Called.

Brett's on land, but he can feel the water and sand between his feet. Brett's in his room, but the air carried the scent of the salty sea. Brett's eyes were closed, but the blue of the sky and sea vivid in his mind.

Then sudden turbulence, dark clouds, rumbles of thunder and lighting. Strong winds, and merciless whiplash of waves, of violence. The music that's not his, foam turned into water, took him over. No. Brett clashed his brows. No.

In a breath, he played louder, pressed on to the strings harder. He had to swim. Faster. Stronger. He had to, or he'll drown.

Fast breaths. Sweat drops.

He had to move faster. Harder. Stronger. In order not to--

Bzzz. The phone on his music stand vibrated.

His playing stopped. A breath, then he put down his violin on a nearby chair. With his free hand, Brett wiped his sweat and picked up his phone.

He jumped, eyes wide, hit his face with his bow, "Ow!" Almost throwing his glasses off in the process. The email he got, it's the one been waiting for, for months! Brett threw his fists into the air, "yeah! Finally!"

Wanted to share the good news, he quickly returned his violin to his case and grabbed his sneakers. He went down the stairs in haste, almost slipping from the newly waxed floor.

By the main door, "Ma, I'm going to Eddy's," he called out as he tied his shoelaces on. He didn't even wait for an answer, he went out. Under the blazing hot sun, he ran. Brett didn't mind the heat. He had good news to deliver.

-

The window in Eddy's room brought the hot wind in. Sweating lots, he fanned himself with a notebook. The aircon in his room busted the day before, and the electric fan working double-time didn't help either.

Holed up in his room with piles of books, notes, and various photocopied handouts from his sister, Eddy spent his summer vacation studying for his medical admission test. No time to waste if you want to graduate on time, right? Five years of MD? He planned on finishing it in four, four and a half at most.

With the frayed notebook still on his hand, Eddy slummed back on his chair, arms dangled to the floor. He heard steps on the way to his room, Eddy grinned. He knew who they belong to. Head threw back, and eyes up at the ceiling, "so freaking hot!"

And just in time, by his bedroom's open door, with a plastic bag at hand, Brett, "want some ice?"

-

The boys sat at the last steps of the staircase, side by side. It was the coolest part of the Chen household without any airconditioning, because any time of the day, no sun from the windows hit the place. They ate ice lollies there.

As he licked his melon flavored stick, "What brought you here?" The taller eyed Brett.

"Well," Brett bit on his ice lolly and fumbled with his short's pockets for this phone. He opened the email and showed it to Eddy. Still biting on his ice, with a smile up to his eyes, "I got in! The Germany one!"

Eddy hugged his friend, his melon still at hand. Genuinely happy for him, "congrats, bro!"

Brett's lolly dropped, he laughed, made a mess on the floor, but they didn't mind. "Thanks, man!" He hugged back. Tight. Buried his nose to Eddy's shoulder, "thanks, man."

"Mmm.." Eddy hummed. He closed his eyes, held Brett tighter, "yeah..."

Both the boys are step by step, getting closer to their dreams, to the great future ahead of them. Renowned violin soloist Yang. Established cardiologist Dr. Chen.

"So... Germany, huh?" Eddy exhaled. His free hand balled a fist of Brett's shirt. Deep inside he's scared.

Brett closed his eyes, concentrated on the thumping of his heart, he nodded. Deep inside he's scared.

Each step on the way, to their goals, they'd grow apart.

Brett never wanted that.

Neither do Eddy.

"When we're 30, and both still single... marry me, Eddy."

"Pfft!" The taller laughed out loud, "I'm more worried about you not getting girlfriend, man!" Then another hearty laugh, "stuck with your violin 40 hours a day!" Eddy's forgotten lolly completely detached from its stick, fell to Brett's back.

"So cold!" Brett let go of Eddy in impulse. "I'm more worried about you!" He reached for the back of his shirt where the cold hit. "Day and night, you're nose-deep, buried in your books! Learn to get a life, man!"

Eddy stuck a tongue out to his friend. Smiling, he put the empty stick back to his mouth.

Touching the wide wet patch on his back, Brett turned his head to the side, tried to see, "Fuck, Ma's gonna kill me!"

\---

'Thank God, I'm not late!' Eddy, relieved, as he sat down on his designated seat. He then put his bouquet of, the florist said, red and yellow parrot tulips, on the empty seat beside him as he unbuttoned his black and white striped blazer.

The doctor looked around, seats were almost full, and still more people continue to flood in. The venue's filled with various noises from the audience's clattering, languages, chatting. 'Brett's this famous, eh?' Eddy smiled to himself.

Various ages and nationalities. He spotted a group of teens at the end of his row, 'who said classical is only for the old people?' Some looked like they traveled from far away countries just to hear Brett play. Proud. Eddy's heart bloomed.

Near him, "excuse me," a lady in blue, smiled, gestured to the seat next to him.

Eddy grabbed the bouquet in haste, flustered, "I'm sorry." He pushed his glasses up his nose and put the flowers on his lap. The doctor eyed the lady, she had a small fan with Brett's face on it, and two, no, three copies of the program. Why that many?

Seconds later, lights on the audience's seats dimmed. The spectators turned quiet from their chattering. Fixed their seating, others readied their cameras. A few last-minute coughs, here and there, and it started.

The curtain rose. A full orchestra on stage. Formal blacks. And loud applause from the audience. Then together, Gretta and Brett walked--

'Gretta? What is she--?' Eddy turned to his seatmate, apologetic, "Ma'am, your program, can I?"

She flashed him a smile and handed him one, "first time to attend a concert?"

Eddy frantically read the paper even under the dimmed lights, "yes," he answered without looking. And there he found: _under the baton of Ms. Gretta Hills._ His hand unconsciously crumpled the brochure, "fuck!" The doctor put his free hand on his face, a toothy grin behind his palm.

"Hello, everyone!"

Eddy looked up, full attention to the stage, to Brett, who held the microphone.

He scratched the back of his neck, "umm... you guys heard this story lots of time now," Brett turned to the group of teens with their cameras all on him, pointed to their direction, "especially those people," he laughed, "the brettybangFC."

"We love you, Brett!" The girls waved and shouted.

The soloist smiled, waved back at them. "Though, it's a little bit different this time."

Eddy leaned back properly on his seat, put a hand on his chin.

"I send my friend invites for all of my concerts, you see... and," eyes at the audience, Brett tried to find someone, he licked his lip, "I know he's busy. Always so busy, so he can't always attend." He looked down at his shoes, figured out of what to say next.

The audience went, "Aww..." Even the lady beside Eddy.

"Brett--he, he always says that?" Ears red, Eddy stammered as he sank on his seat. Covered his hot face with his blazer, muffled, "in his concerts?"

The lady in blue raised an amused brow at her seatmate, "every concert."

"And to be honest, I waited long for this day to come." The soloist's gaze behind his glasses went towards his friend's general direction. He knew Eddy'll be there, in the middle of the 5th row. That was his every concert's designated seat. Brett smiled brightly at the melting blob of black and white stripes, "enjoy the show, Eddy!"

He had slid more down the seat, almost lying completely. Thank Gods for the cover of his suit and hands, or his seatmate can notice the doctor's flushed faced and incoherent blabbers.

The fans cheered and squealed. His seatmate laughed loud. And the show started.

\---

Rehearsal break.

After the great performance last night, the orchestra, with Brett, went back to rehearsals. And in two days, they'll move to the last city.

The soloist sat on the bench beside the coffee and snacks vending machine, opened his phone for the calendar, seemed to be in deep thought. 'Eddy still has a few days left on his vacation right?' he bit his lip as he counted the days. Would he come with Brett to the next city?

Come? Why? Eddy's his own person, he'd do what he wants, go where he wants. Spend his vacation how he wants. It's not like he's his boyfriend or any--

"Fuuuuuuaaaarrrgghh!" Brett ruffled his hair furiously, ears bright red.

"Sounds like you're having a gay crisis there, Brett," Gretta, who appeared beside him, with coffee at hand. She chuckled, "'bout Eddy?"

"Shut it!" Brett looked up at her, displeased, as he fixed his hair. "Let me be."

Grinning, Gretta messed with the hair Brett fixed, and sat beside him. As she sipped her drink, her eyes caught of Brett's phone beside him. The conductor crossed her legs, "crazy world under the clear blue sky?"

"Huh?" Brett turned to her, hands still on his har as he fixed it, _again_. He looked down to where her eyes were, on his phone, on Eddy's masterpiece that he set as a wallpaper. He gingerly took his phone, stared on the screen, confused, "what about it?"

"It reminds me of my sister's friend," she said, took another sip. With melancholy in her voice, "and how she cried..."

Brett didn't remember any more of the conversation. All he knew was he started running. How could he not know? The evidence was so clear! The soap, his clothes, the art pieces, Brett just dismissed the thought as its improbable, but, "Fuck!" His eyes started to water, "God damn it, Brett!"

He arrived in front of Eddy's hotel room, panting, hands on his knees, bent over. His lungs hurt, worked overtime to catch his breath. His heartbeat loud, all over the place.

"Shit! I should have called," he raised his head, fixed his glasses, 'I don't even know if he's here!' Quickly he grabbed his phone from his pocket, dialed his number. The other line immediately picked up.

"Bretty, hey!"

"Where are you now?" Brett bit his thumb, "Sorry, I should have called earlier... Uhh, I'm at your door and--"

The hotel door opened, a cheerful Eddy appeared. In Brett's hoodie, with a phone on his ears. The taller smiled, "you can come in."

Brett slid his phone slowly from his ears, turned to Eddy. He followed in.

The space between the curtains let the cozy orange in. As if an ethereal being, Eddy, who sat on the bed, basked in the afternoon light. Soft glows haloed his messy hair. Strong veiny arms under the rolled-up sleeves, moved, pushed in clothes for more room in the luggage.

"Just came back too," he put neatly folded clothes in storage, "bought what my sis wanted. Some chocolates and weird stuff." With a grunt, he _forced_ stuffed more items in, zipped the luggage and stood up. Eddy faced Brett, "I'm going back tomorrow."

Brett's shoulders dropped, "O-oh..."

The doctor ran his hand through his hair, "umm... yeah, the hospital's calling me back. They lacked medical personnel..." His voice trailed off and avoided Brett's gaze.

"Is that so..."

Eddy moistened his lips. Not looking back, he nodded.

"I don't know what you're trying to accomplish here, Eddy," Brett turned to his side, his hand trembled, "but don't- don't just come and go like that."

Silent, Eddy looked down to his feet.

"Wh-why are you even here, Eddy?" With a slight tremor in his voice, "It's long since we last talked... Why now--?"

"Because I'm sick," the doctor cut him off. After a deep breath, "and I'll lose everything I worked hard for if..." Blunt nails dug into his palm, "if this continues."

"Continue?" Brett ran a hand in his hair, "what?" Pointed between Eddy and himself, back and forth, "us, not talking?"

There was a time Eddy hated Brett for leaving, but what can he do? It was for the fulfillment of his dreams, to become a world-known violinist. Through the years, his friend, steadily got closer to his goal, while Eddy threaded on a thin wire at all times, on the brink of losing himself.

"Damn it!" The doctor's breathing, ragged, "I can't do a God damn visual test on my own anymore!" Eddy flipped his arms to the air, "I can't do- I can't do operations, special medical procedures anymore!" He swallowed, pointed hard to his chest, "I feel useless, Brett! So fucking useless!"

The violinist doesn't need any more explanation. The very proof, right in front of him. The stars that fell gracefully from Eddy's sad eyes, the way they glittered and shone in different hues, innocent and divine. Behind the beauty was a curse, if his love can't love him back, those stars will slowly take away the colors, his sight.

Brett's jaw tightened, pulled his hair in distress, but released in defeat. Hands limply fell to his sides. Brett would do anything for Eddy, anything. Even to sacrifice himself. All he had to do was ask.

In a low voice, "what do you want from me, Eddy?" Tears ran down his cheeks, hiccupped, "you-- okay," gaze direct to Eddy, "I'll be your wingman."

"No, Brett!" He reached for him, but the other slapped his hand away.

"Give me--," Brett sobbed, bit his lip. With a hand, he urged Eddy to continue, "give me something to work with, okay?" He wiped his eyes with a wrist, glasses went askew, but did nothing to fix it. "What does she like?" Eyes darted everywhere, except on Eddy, "you want me to serenade her for you?"

"Listen--" Eddy cried, stepped forward, to reach Brett, but the other moved farther backward.

"I'll befriend her first, then talk about you to her, yeah?" He sobbed. "Ye-yeah," closed his eyes, for a situation he doesn't want to come true, "she'll definitely- definitely like you, Eddy!" Brett still stepped backward.

It hurt Eddy, he sobbed, that his friend doesn't want him to talk, he won't want to listen. The taller took another step forward, to reach for Brett, who he doesn't want to see crying.

"You're tall, you're smart," Brett's back reached a wall. With nowhere to turn back to, he finally faced Eddy. "You're kind, funny..." He sobbed, "you have the nicest smile, you have the biggest heart." Tears made their way from Brett's eyes to his chin, to his shirt.

"Listen to me, Brett," he pleaded, streams of glittering tears and little stars continued to flow.

He locked eyes with the taller, deep inside, the violinist wanted to say, _'I love you, Eddy.'_

He smiled through the shining stars and reached out to cup Brett's wet cheek. This time, the hand wasn't slapped away. Eddy closed his eyes, swallowed, mustered all the courage he could get. He whispered, "I've always wanted to be yours, Brett."

Wide-eyed, Brett stared back at Eddy, silent. His brain took time to comprehend.

"Your offer," the thirty-two-year-old doctor caressed his long time friend's soft cheek with a thumb, "'still up?"

Brett bit his lip, a mix of crying and laughing appeared on the violinist features, and the skin where the doctor touched his cheek reddened. After a few beats, Brett flashed him a toothy smile and nodded.

Then his strong arms, pulled Brett into a hug, almost crushing. Unnoticed, his tears turned clear. Eddy wanted to pinch his cheek if this was a dream, "Really, Brett? Really?"

Another small nod from Brett, as he wrapped his arm around the doctor, reciprocated the hug. He buried his nose to Eddy's chest, "I thought you'll never ask."

-

After the last leg of Brett's concert, he went back to Australia, to Eddy, to where his heart originally was.

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I'm not that proud of this, i tried to fluff okay! twosetmeridian and chlochlobear are to blame for this! 😝😝


End file.
